The Mystery of the Strawberry Underwear
by Night Strider
Summary: When somebody found this showy underwear inside the gym, everybody disowned it; but a rumor broke out and suddenly everyone started to, gulp, claim it. YAOI. Ayako’s POV. One shot. RnR!


The Mystery of the Strawberry Underwear

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Summary: When somebody found this showy underwear inside the gym, everybody disowned it; but a rumor broke out and suddenly everyone started to gulp claim it. YAOI. Ayako's POV. One shot. RnR!

A/N: This is unedited so please just ignore the errors. I'm sorry I don't have time to beta read my works. Anyway, this is dedicated to Autotoxicity.

Sometimes the strangest, most fantastic things happen in the most unlikely places. Don't ask why. I myself can't even figure out why it had to be the basketball gym, of all scandalous places. From the outset, things were rather wacky and it seemed petty why a bustle of the kind should be caused by something as pointless as an abandoned underwear. Well, the people involved were a little too childish for their age and I think that's what made the issue a little more controversial than expected.

About the central image of this story, the underwear; it was a hilarious token of something, I guess. It was pink and spotted with tiny prints of red strawberries; kinda new and not yet expiring from over use. Yes, that's how it practically looked to me and the moment my eyes fell on it a recollection seized me. One time the guidance couselor borrowed our economics period and conducted a psychological activity, as she named it, to measure our ideological spectrum. It was some sort of a quiz and one certain item there asked this question: If you were lost in a strawberry field and was suddenly attacked by a strong hunger, how many strawberries would you take? I'm keeping my answer as a secret but the point was this; the number of strawberries you would pick represents the, ehem, intensity of your sexual inclinations. Libido meter, in more liberated terms; because according to studies, strawberries, especially the red ones, are a symbol of amorousness.

And that's why the case of the underwear lying on the tiled floor of the shower room created such commotion. Everybody right away assumed that the owner was a pervert and that (whoever it was) he was a retarded scumbag who would rather strap in scented pink undies instead of a supporter.

It was Yasuda who found it one fateful morning. I don't reckon he was the kind of guy who would heehaw at the sight of something so funny but what he did was downright deviant from his character. Apparently, he was changing to his practice clothes inside the locker room cum showers when his eyes just fell on it as if a mystical power lured him to do so. Signs showed that it had been slumped there since last night and grossly enough, was used. It amused Yasuda so much that he immediately stormed out of the room and waved the accursed thing to everyone inside the gym. Of course they all tittered the hell out of the planet, knowing Shohoku boys. The suspicion that perhaps it had been worn by someone in the club while playing basketball was a big hit. The next minute, everyone just started to entertain themselves with pestering assumptions, silly accusations, and piquant disownment.

'NYAHAHAHAHA! Who's the retarded pimp who forgot to girth his damned underwear on the way home?' Sakuragi burst out with the boldest guffaw imaginable. 'Mitchy, I'll kiss your arse if it isn't you. Nyahahaha.'

'Over my maggoty carcass, donkey raping muskrat.' Retorted the senior who was still recovering from his fits with his arms clutched around his waist. 'Hahahaha, oh come on boys. Let's have an open forum here and now; it wouldn't hurt if the owner will just raise his hand and say "yes, I dress up like a drag with this underwear on". Hahahaha.'

'Yeah, I'm with Mitchy. It isn't really as shameful as it looks it's just…criminal. Hahahahaha. I'd kill myself if my mom got me into wearing it when I was 5.' Ryota chuckled, obviously suffering from wrung exhalation and nuzzled stomach.

'I only wear yellow.' Was all Rukawa could say. Humorlessly, however.

'Mmmmh, why can't we just send it to the garbage can; it's wasting our time like a red tape. But first, please, whoever the owner is, can confess right now. We won't laugh, promise.' Kogure's gentle voice attempted to extract a solution. He too, manifested symptoms of curiosity and restrained laughter.

'Don't be a moron, Megane. Can't you see HE will be enormously embarrassed by this buffoonery?' Sakuragi piped in. 'Let's hold an investigative study instead; I have a feeling the owner left trails of his pathetic masturbation.' He finished with a hoarse snigger.

'Jesus Christ! Whoever the bum is can't get away! How many times do I have to tell you that you can't leave your stuff inside the area. Dammit! I'm warning the culprit right now; he will be punished by the penal code.'

But Captain Akagi's vituperation only received another set of rampant snickers. Nobody would listen; the point was not about the environmental rules and littering and not attending on one's possessions, it was about the ludicrous underwear and the stony bastard who wore it.

It didn't take long for the juicy gossip to spread through the whole campus. Like an inescapable pandemic, it got into everyone in the school's master's list. Reactions did not shoot beyond the usual and were comparatively unvaried; some girls would laugh heartily like the team did or would whisper among themselves while the males would just smile or blush. Others who were as sick as Sakuragi's Guntai would explode into a mighty pack of neighing and would tease every member of the team who were the only feasible suspects. Goodness.

The poor undercloth was etched in the comic history of the club and took its glory by the hanger dangling on the locker room's window ledge. It served its purpose for a while; if one member of the team was somewhat in a sore mood, all he had to do was to steer his eyes towards the strawberry underwear to obtain his cure. Simple as that; he would laugh and be spirited the next second. They thought that it was an incarnation of fun and mockery while I…what the hell did it matter to me? The sight of a withered underwear was enough to make me throw up the rest of my intestines; how unhygienic. They never really washed it; they stupidly thought that if they sent it to the laundry it would lose its charm and value (if it had any, 3 dollars perhaps and since it was used, 50 cents would do).

But the destiny of the strawberry underwear was undermined by the weak minded tittle tattle of the Rukawa Fan Club. Somebody got wind that the owner was undoubtedly a heart throb. Yeah, the newfangled issue went this way; Rukawa was the owner. Rumors supposed it that the super rookie developed an interest in this certain fan and made it a habit to wear her present every game as a good luck charm. He had a closet full of this kind of underwear which he got from his innumerable admirers. How horrendously dumb. So the owner was Rukawa and he was a heartthrob, typically.

But the other boys, being plagued by a deep rooted pomp, wouldn't pass that over so easily. Naturally they had to contest it; Rukawa was not a hotshot and he wasn't the owner of so many an underwear received by an army of fans. Darn, it would've ended there and then with a cliché resolution like that (Rukawa being the culprit), but people could be dumber than a hen sometimes. I don't understand why they had to stoop to such shallowness, refuting what was most likely and then meriting themselves with arrogance and bullshits, come hell or high water. So the issue refused to let itself rest as another one loomed more polemical than the former. What do you think happened next?

This is the picture:

'Mine. Okay, I confess to the shame. I own it!' Sakurgi recited dramatically as an opera actor would've done. 'An obsessed fan handed it to me 2 weeks ago and since I was short of clean undies back home, I resorted to this pathetic thing instead.'

'Aw. How sweet, asshole.' Mitsui chimed in sarcastically and raised his cynical brow. 'Sigh. I know it's stupid but this is a gift from a fawning admirer from section 4 2nd year. I kinda wanted to try a new one instead of the usual tight ones from Hanes, so I said why not? Well, it was relatively comfy anyway.' Mitsui finished with an air of distinguishable hubris.

'Yeah, right.' Miyagi wouldn't buy it of course so he inserted himself the same delusion. 'But you haven't heard of this underground claque for Miyagi kawaii who manufactured fruit undies for their idols. I bet you haven't. Well, as you oughta know, boys, I'm their first and only client so yes, hand me now what's mine.' Ryota pointed to the thing with an ardent glance.

And the claimants never ceased to pour in. Swift as the lightning's nerves, everybody just started reversing their previous disavowal to the filthy thing and poof! They all became the owners of that which they used to shove against each other as if it were an illness discredited by the whole globe. They fought, bickered, and hustled among themselves, announcing that each and every one of them was the heart throb who got the strawberry underwear as a present from an adulating fan. Jesus. This is what betise and frivolity stain on people's minds.

But the fun quelled down a little bit a few weeks later; no longer was there an audible argument about it. Rukawa's fans still believed that it was he who owned the disgraceful piece of clothing while the other boys never really got over the subject; they still told every one who would listen the fictional, disillusioned tale about the origin of the infamous strawberry underwear. Until Akira Sendoh unexpectedly came to be our guest.

Yeah, the one from Ryonan High. Everyone was intrigued by his seemingly untimely visit and the shock was tripled when he came looking for Sakuragi. The redhead however, was ill disposed to welcome Sendoh and as he faced the Ryonan ace, he blushed profusely like a crimson inkblot tinting a pad paper. Sakuragi, should we say, was not just abashed to be caught in a sweaty and tousled state by this good looking stud; he seemed more embarrassed by the crowd who was witnessing this encounter.

Sendoh smiled and said something that flogged the sanity out of our human skulls. It just…left us all in a mental disarray, to put it minimally.

'Hana-chan, are you wearing the strawberry underwear I gave you?' Sendoh said in a form of greeting the object of his unholy desire.

'Uh, errr, uhmm. No, I---'

'Why? I told you it's special; it can bring you luck.' The spiky haired lad said with an astonishingly handsome smile.

'It's, err, it's dirty. I, err, haven't washed it.'

'That's ok. I've bought a new one for you; Cherry red.' Sendoh simpered sweetly; sweet enough to get them both diabetes.

Well, so much for bragging about some nonexistent fan girls, Sakuragi became the heroic laughingstock of Shohoku Basketball Team after that. And oh, cherry is perhaps a representation of something akin to sensual attraction as well (like the strawberry) but I have a feeling its magnitude is deeper than that of a strawberry's. In that case, I'll see the school counselor for elucidation. Oh, life; you'd never really know.

END

A/N: I want to apologize to some Sendoh fans out there who don't like to think of him as a pervert. I guess I made him one bit of a hentai here. I just think his smile suggests so. 


End file.
